2014.09.09 - Doing It The Hard Way
The Danger Room, many an event has transpired within these Alien walls. The room is almost magical in design, with its ability to create virtually any environment, to the extent it is almost too real. Case in point, the room is a dense jungle, alive with the sounds of animals, the crunch of underbrush beneath feet, and the sound of voices in the distance. The nice thing about the danger room, for a telepath? Those voices are robotic, they don't have a mind that one can manipulate, so you have to rely upon other powers, senses, and abilities to combat these foes. It is this reason on Betsy Braddock, Psylocke, has chosen this particular environment. Her telekinetic skills are blunt force, little finesse, and the only way she's going to learn how to make things much more skillful, is by practice, and watching what another far more precise telekinetic can do. A brand new costume glides down Betsy's form, rather than the one-piece suit that seemed to forever ride up her behind, the new costume covers her from neck to toe in a graceful line of black. Dark purple 'X' marks the front of the costume, while dark slashes line down her legs in perfect symmetry. The ninja's hunkered low next to a tree, almost blending into the shadows the foliage around her supplies, save for the dark purple of her hair, which stands out sorely in the greenery. A telepathic voice echoes into the individual she's invited with her. >.< Thank you for joining me, Rachel. >.< Considering the places that Rachel's been dragged off to with the Guardians - and the weirdness she's been subjected to while there - the Danger Room, for all it's advanced alien technology and unmatched simulation capabilities, seems comfortable and familiar by comparison. The idea of doing something as normal as a Danger Room session for a change is a big part of why Rachel jumped at the chance when Betsy invited her. The other reason? Simple curiosity. Although they've worked together in the past, Rachel isn't one of Betsy's regular sparring partners, and the redhead can't help but wonder why her British-by-way-of-Japan team-mate chose her for this particular session. Rachel's costume's a little different from her usual, too. Although she telekinetically shifted her casual clothes into her usual jumpsuit of bold reds and yellows as she followed Betsy to the basement, as soon as she got a good look at the environment the other woman had picked - and realised that stealth would play a part in the session - Rachel had to concede that she'd stick out like a sore thumb amidst the greenery. Still, for her, solving that problem was the work of a moment, and reds and yellows were replaced by greys and blacks. Her spiked leather jacket, however, remained in place. Some things she refuses to compromise on. Not quite as unobtrusive as her companion, Rachel's still largely concealed amongst the decayed roots of a fallen tree, and the dense vegetation that's grown up around it. << Any time. What are we up against? >> Her telepathic reply to Betsy is made in an easy tone, though with an undercurrent of anticipation for whatever's to come. A cold, almost predatory smile spreads itself across Psylocke's features as Rachel 'asks' her question. >.< We're here to save lives, of course, somewhere in this jungle, a number of natives have been captured by a large band of guerillas. We're here to move in, save the villagers, and subdue the bad guys, without killing them. There is, of course, one catch. >.< As Betsy 'speaks', her telepathy suddenly shuts down, entirely. Unless Rachel really pushes, the telepathic walls around Betsy's mind are absolute, and complete. Her voice comes out in a soft hush of sound. "No telepathy, not even between team-mates, and telekinesis must be very subtle." The British woman's, with the face of the Far-East, has a soft voice, barely above a whisper as her violet eyes scan around her, listening as well as trying to perceive any threats through the thick underbrush. As a reason for this Betsy shifts her stance, turning her violet eyes onto Rachel. "I have had a bloody hell time refining my telekinesis, blunt force, a telekinetic katana, I will.." The word wrinkles Betsy's nose as she admits to it. "Appreciate some assistance in learning finesse from an expert." And there just any isn't any bloody way Betsy is going to ask Jean. Rachel feels... something... along with the words that arrive in her brain, drawing her to turn her head from peering surreptitiously around the bole of 'her' tree to instead look over at Betsy, just in time to see that smile. Another person might be unnerved, wondering what they'd let themselves in for, but Rachel? Not a bit. She just smirks quietly to herself as she listens to Betsy's explanation. At the mention of a 'catch', Rachel's about to silently ask 'which is?' when she feels the other woman's telepathic shields snap into place. Her eyes narrow in a slightly quizzical expression, her head tilting questioningly, but when that question is answered, her smirk just grows that little bit more pronounced. "Well we'd hate to make it /too/ easy for ourselves, wouldn't we?" Rachel's words are almost spoken under her breath, just barely carrying to reach Betsy, and there's still a curious look in her eyes, as if she knows that there must be an ulterior motive for hampering themselves in this way. When that motive comes out, Rachel's eyes flicker, betraying her surprise, but the smirk she's wearing fades. Despite Betsy's quite formidable telepathic shields keeping the redhead out of her mind, the wrinkled nose tells Rachel everything she needs to know about Betsy's reluctance to admitting what she obviously sees as a shortcoming. And since Rachel has plenty of those... "I don't know about 'expert'..." She says quietly, conveniently forgetting that she's telekinetically changed her clothes at the molecular level in front of Betsy twice in the last hour alone. "...but I'll do my best." She holds Betsy's gaze for a moment, then smirks again. "But you'd better take the lead for the sneaky bit. I'm not exactly known for it." The jungle remains active with the soft sounds of bugs, birds, and brush, but thankfully nothing clomping through, or even attempting to sneak through. It is as if the danger room is just waiting for the right moment to toss its guests onto their ears. Betsy asked Doug to program the scenario, complete with if deadly force is given to the robots, the scenario would reset with a big failure. This part, Betsy doesn't share with Rachel, instead the ninja keeps her gaze upon the red-head, listening with a slightly raised eyebrow. Her violet eyes roam from the top of Rachel's head, down to her toes at the comment of not being an 'expert', a twist of her purple lips and a dry, "Modesty? From a Summers? How unusual." Echoes out, before Psylocke shifts her stance again. "Then perhaps we can learn something from each other in this, Rachel." With that, Betsy disappears into the underbrush of the jungle, only the faintest rustle can be heard as the ninja silently creeps forward. Being 'head' blind is a lot more of a disadvantage than Betsy realized, not being able to reach out and find her team-mates with a psionic link. She has to go with trust in the individual, and use other senses to register their location. If Rachel had any inkling of the other conditions Betsy's keeping from her, she'd either be amused that Betsy thinks she might get carried away... or annoyed that the other telepath doesn't think that she can control herself. It's difficult to predict which, so it's probably a good thing that she didn't share that particular wrinkle with Rachel. Rachel, in any case, isn't dwelling on the victory conditions, at least not yet. Instead, she's distracted by the close examination Betsy suddenly seems to be giving her, her eyebrows rising curiously as Betsy's eyes give her the once over - before she has to stifle a laugh at the punchline when Betsy so dryly delivers it. She manages to keep her reaction to a quiet snort only through a supreme effort of will. "OK. Point taken." She says when she trusts herself to speak, but her eyes are gleaming with suppressed questions. There was just enough cattiness in Betsy's words to make Rachel wonder what lies behind them, but she's pretty sure she wouldn't get an answer even if she asked. "Anything's possible." Rachel says, entirely to herself as Betsy's already moving off. Rachel pauses for a moment, stretching out lightly with her telekinesis, pushing it ahead of them, searching for movement that might reveal their opponents. It's a great technique - inside a building. But the jungle is alive with movement. Just sorting through all the impressions and trying to filter out the sway of foliage in the breeze, the antics of small animals in the undergrowth, is a chore, and realistically Rachel's range is going to be pretty low. She smirks a bit to herself, though - with Betsy's ban on telepathy, the redhead can't even share this particular trick with her. Instead, Rachel gets moving. She keeps low, and although she's not a patch on the ninja, she's quiet - for all her self-deprecating words, she's learned to move without attracting attention a long time before she came to this time period. Any questions Rachel may have concerning Betsy's expressions, or any hidden meanings behind them, are lost to the sounds of rustling underbrush, and a quiet, professional ninja. Betsy's movements are quick, precise, and nimble, almost gliding through the ferns, fallen needles, and brush with silent experience. The trick with the telekinesis would have been appreciated, something Betsy hadn't really thought of, using her hearing (and if she's honest her telepathy) to source out incoming threats. Hampered, indeed, through the blind aspect of this journey, still, Betsy sticks to her guns on it. The brush opens up to a small clearing, where Psylocke immediately drops to her belly, casting a gaze back to offer the barest brush of a telekinetic touch to Rachel's arm. The feeling would be like a pull of a hand. It is with some effort that Betsy performs this, and if she's honest, it'll probably be far more of a heavy yank on Rachel's arm, versus a gentle tap. In the clearing, itself, a number of men (about six) with guns are huddled around a campfire. In the background, there's a wooden cage filled with about three prisoners, two men and one woman, the prisoners are bunched together in the back of the cage, while two guards with guns stand in front of the wooden cage. Rachel would usually be pretty confident about moving silently, but Psylocke's like a wraith. How can anyone move that silently? And still cover the ground that quickly? The need to keep up doesn't help Rachel's attempts to keep quiet, and - to her, at least - every unintended sound seems as loud as a gunshot. She's wearing a near-permanent wince by the time they begin to approach that particular clearing. Rachel still doesn't have the clearing in sight when Betsy goes to ground and reaches back to warn her telekinetically. In fact, Rachel, crouched low, has the arm that Betsy's chosen to tap stretched out before her, about to come down and take her weight. If the telekinetic touch HAD been a tap, this wouldn't have been a problem, but since it's more of a violent grab, dragging Rachel's arm to one side - the redhead goes face-first into the dirt, crunching into a fern. At least she doesn't yelp! Rachel's crash isn't particularly loud, but she still freezes in place, sure that she must have been heard - with her instincts screaming that if Betsy grabbed her with that much force, it must be showtime. Rachel makes a snap decision - and doesn't give in to her instincts. Risking a quick glance beyond the clearing, she searches furiously until... yes. He'll do. A swift application of telekinesis, no more than a nudge, and a dozing monkey falls out of a tree on the far side of the clearing, screaming out its displeasure as it falls and making far, far more noise when it lands than Rachel herself did. By the time the monkey's friends join in with the screeching, Rachel's wearing a rather self-satisfied smile, and takes the opportunity to wriggle up next to Betsy. "Watch this." She breathes, and reaches out telekinetically again. Half a dozen targets, very small ones at that... but Rachel has her expertise as an expert to live up to, doesn't she? All the safeties on the men's guns snick quietly into place. "Your turn." She tells her team-mate. The pull on Rachel's arm wasn't supposed to be quite that forceful, but Betsy is still learning to control her telekinesis, and as a result, Rachel (unfortunately) goes down fairly hard, leaving the purple haired ninja to mentally curse Rachel, versus y'know, actually taking the blame for things? Still, Rachel's quick thinking, and use of monkeys has Betsy turning her gaze back to the red-head with an expression of both surprise, as well as admiration. By the time Rachel has slithered up to where Betsy is hiding, the ninja's expression has changed back to her professional tone. Rachel's ability to snap the safeties on the guns is impressive, and very, very precise. The /challenge/, however, in Rachel's voice? Has Betsy rising to the occasion. Meanwhile, the initial disturbance Rachel made was met by the men with voices raised, and all of those huddled around the campfire rising upwards, gesturing in every direction. It's the monkeys that fall from the tree that finally relaxes the men, laughing a bit as they point towards the chittering, and annoyed creatures. With the safeties off of their guns, they can't immediately start firing, if Betsy's control fails. Focusing upon the campfire, a good distraction (other than monkeys) needs to be made, not to mention but the challenge Rachel offers, just means Betsy has to rise to the occasion. Thus with a slight push, one of the logs spills over to the side, a spark of flames spread through another push, like a gust of wind picking up over the flames to suddenly send all of the carefully piled up logs to spill out and onto the dry brush and bedding spread out too close to the campfire. In that instant, all hell breaks loose, as the men turn their attention away from the monkeys and to the sparking flames that threaten to consume their bedding. Shouts of 'water' and men stomping onto the ground creates a low, vicious smile to the ninja, and without another word to Rachel, she disappears once more into the underbrush, swiftly moving towards the captives at the back. Rachel could imagine what Betsy thought of her less-than-graceful tumble into the undergrowth, but she's not so in awe of the purple-haired ninja's stealthiness that she's going to take the rap for giving away their position! If she hadn't been so busy covering the sound of her crash with, well, monkeys, Betsy would have gotten a look that would have mirrored her cursing of Rachel! Still, the distraction worked, the game's still in play, and by the time Rachel joins Betsy her good humour is firmly back in place too. The flash of mischief in Rachel's eyes as Betsy catches the challenge in her words is unmistakable - clearly Betsy's reaction is just what Rachel was aiming for, and the redhead makes a bit of a play of settling in to see what Betsy does to answer it. Fire is, of course, a classic, but it's always effective. As Rachel watches the men forget about the monkeys and busy themselves with putting out Betsy's fire, Rachel nods approvingly and whispers. "Not bad." ...only to find that Betsy is already moving away in that damnably silent way that she has. "And here I thought I /wasn't/ supposed to read your mind?" Rachel complains quietly to herself, but she's got a fair idea where Betsy's going. All Rachel has to do is maintain the distraction. Hurriedly, she scans the campsite. Rope, spare ammunition... these are things she can use. She waits, tensely, for Betsy to make her move. Work as a team? Explain what she's doing? What? Betsy does things her own way, her own time, and without thinking about the consequences of her team-mates not knowing what it is she's doing. Well, at least, some of the time. She just assumes they trust her, as much as she might trust (well not really) them. Silently, quickly, carefully, Psylocke glides through the underbrush, waiting until just the right moment to sneak up behind the first guard, her arms wrapped tightly about his neck shutting the air flow for just the right amount of time. A little extra use of telekinetic force to accomplish this, and the man is dragged swiftly into the underbrush, while his neighbor is still quite unaware until it's his turn to be hit upside the head with another powerful blow of force, sending the man to topple to the ground, and then get tugged into the underbrush. The men around the campfire have all but managed to stop the flames from hitting their bedding, kicking the logs back to the pit, as curses, cusses, and accusations abound, not noticing that the two guards standing in front of the prisoners have disappeared, at least - for the moment. Now, now would be a great time for another distraction, as the fire is almost out, and the guards attention begins to move away from the once impending danger. Rachel's sorely tempted to use her telepathy to keep tabs on Betsy once she slithers out of sight. Shields or not, this close she'd almost certainly be able to track a moving spot of blankness on the mental landscape. But she's obscurely reluctant to cheat - even if the other woman's not making it easy for her! Instead, Rachel reaches out with her telekinesis again, feather light. It might've been a wasted effort before, but now? She can ignore the guards and the prisoners, and that leaves only one more large source of movement. Rachel's lips draw back from a slightly feral grin. Gotcha. Keeping tabs on Betsy's stealthy approach, Rachel's still a little surprised (and, all right, impressed) with the speed and the surety of Betsy's first takedown. She catches herself admiring the other woman's work and grimaces, trusting Betsy to get the job done and turning her attention to the remaining guards. The fire was such a good distraction for Betsy that Rachel decides that she feels like using it as well. Narrowing her eyes, she reaches out for the embers of the fire, focusing tightly on the smouldering wood - and uses her telekinesis to agitate it. The fire blazes up again - and Rachel tosses an ammunition box into it with just a flicker of telekinetic power. Now would be a good time to duck. As Betsy drags the last guard into the underbrush, it's the feeling, more than the viewing that triggers her gaze towards the flames as they begin to leap upwards, seemingly all on their own. Yeah, okay, Betsy has to admit, the tossing of the ammo box into the fire is a nice touch, as the box begins to burn, and the hot coals eat through them, and will (without a doubt) soon make the shells not only hot, but explode in a chorus of noise. Which means... Swiftly, Betsy's darting towards the cage door, yanking it open to begin pulling (and not exactly nicely) the captives out of the cage, and towards the safety of the woods. "Move." The word is repeated in several different languages, just in case the computer decides to be mean and not have them understand English. Meanwhile, the men (who had just managed to calm down a bit from the fire) all turn as the flames not only erupt again, but a box of ammunition just seems to appear ON IT. With excited voices, one man starts to move towards the box (as though to pull it out) when another just yanks on his arm as the sputtering sound begins, and with yells of fright, all men charge out of the clearing as the ammo catches fire, and starts exploding. The air is filled with crackling, banging, and the sound of ammo going off as one shell after another gets too hot for the powder inside of it, and explodes outwards in a burst of flame and sparks and everything else. The hostages are safely far away from the commotion, and a loud computerized voice echoes out, "Simulation complete. Hostages Safe. No casualties or excess force. Shutting down." Soon, the danger room is once again inert, leaving Betsy standing where she had left the hostages, and offer a wry grin towards Rachel. The emotion is fleeting, appreciation written in her violet eyes, before Betsy inclines her head. "Nicely done, Rachel." It's only after the ammo box has landed in the suddenly roaring fire that Rachel remembers Betsy had mentioned that the bad guys NOT dying was a requirement of the simulation. She almost drags the box back out of the flames before she realises that the ammo cooking off while the box is floating in mid air is almost certainly worse than it cooking off in the fire pit, no matter how shallowly dug that might be. Besides, they'll duck. Rachel's almost certain they'll duck... Rachel has to admit that the fireworks she caused are impressive, though, and they have the desired effect. She's grinning quite broadly as she watches the men flee from the clearing, but keeps her head down until the ammunition calms down, keeping an eye on Betsy as best she can as her companion frees the captives. And then... it's all over. And Rachel's lying full length on a hard metal surface, rather than lurking in the undergrowth. Standing up, still with that triumphant grin on her face, she looks over to catch Betsy's eye - and she sees the grin before the other woman can hide it. Rachel makes no attempt to hide her own. "Thanks, you too. Those takedowns were nasty. You might have to teach me." She says it lightly, but once the words are said, she has to admit it doesn't sound like so bad an idea. Rachel walks over to join Betsy, telekinetic fire flickering across her body as the grey and black of her uniform shift into more everyday attire. She seems to do it without even thinking about it. She pauses for a moment, then shrugs and asks. "D'you want to get a coffee? Run through each other's tricks?" As Rachel offers the innocent gesture of coffee, talk, and friendship, Betsy hesitates. The expression on her face doesn't show the internal struggle, but the sheer silence that she offers does. Finally, as though curbing some inner demon within her, Betsy's smile is genuine, as she heads towards the exit. "Coffee? No. Tea and perhaps sake?" The last is spoken easily enough, and even shows the war that Betsy has within her, still, Betsy continues, moving towards the door, and exit. "Then we have a deal." Category:Log